A Horror Story Of A Different Sort

[ Let Inga Tell You, La Jolla Light, published October 28, 2024] 2024

We have two manhole covers on the street on either side of our house. We have a lot of history with them, none of it good.

One of them tends to flood, as in fill up with water, which is puzzling when it hasn't rained in six months. It's yet more of the poltergeist that afflicts our address, along with our streetlight that doesn't exist, and the fact that our house and the two on either side of it have three different street names. Even GPS can't figure it out.

Alas, one of these manholes, in a design that to we non-technical types defies logic, contains the electrical circuits that power both our home and many of the neighbors. So when the manhole fills up with water, the circuits short out (duh), and a whole bunch of SD G&E trucks show up to pump it out and then re-wire. In the interim, there's no power.

Meanwhile, prior to Proposition 13's passage in 1976, city sewer lines received regular maintenance. But one of the budget cuts that occurred afterwards was that this line item was dropped from the city's budget.

Even we weren't aware of this until the morning of January 7, 1981. It was 7 a.m. and I was still in my nightgown, feeding 10-month-old Henry breakfast. My then-husband was off playing tennis. (Men are never home when you need them.) Rory, aged 3, was feeding Cheerios to the slugs on the patio. (Slugs really like Cheerios.) All of a sudden I felt an earthquake-like rumble followed by geysers of black gunge spewing from all the drains in the house -  toilets, sinks, showers, bathtub. They truly could make a horror movie out of this. Under the best of circumstances, I am not a morning person.

I raced outside to turn off the main water supply to the house, but nothing happened. Within minutes, water was several inches up the walls and overflowing the house. When the emergency plumber showed up, the first thing he said was, "I've already called the city. There's nothing I can do."

Through no fault of ours, there had been a trunk line block of the sewer line in front of our house. The force was so great that it had blown the manhole cover part way off. Since we were the last house before the blockage, the entire neighborhood's sewage came up through our house for almost two hours before the city emergency crews could clear it. The sheer force of the water ruptured our plumbing, and the flooding shorted out our telephone and electrical outlets. The city work crews (regular fixtures at our house for many weeks) put all the furniture up on blocks and came in with huge, noisy industrial fans to dry the place out. We all had to get gamma globulin shots against hepatitis. We found toilet paper in colors we never used. 

We were not the only people in San Diego to suffer this unfortunate turn of events, and suffice to say, routine sewer maintenance made it back into the budget. This, however, has been a mixed bag.

About six years ago, a neighbor (Neighbor A) developed a serious roach problem. The city had put some irrigation pipes on the set-back on their property which somehow seemed to have created a massive creepy underground colony of roaches who were regularly invading their home. The city finally came out and decided to clear the sewer lines (and hopefully the roaches) by blasting water at very high velocity from the manhole (the one without the electrical circuits) in front of the neighbor (Neighbor B) across the street from us.

It was an epic fail. Fortunately, no one was sitting on a commode in Neighbor B's house when a geyser of high-pressure water blew through their toilets all the way up to the ceiling creating, besides utter life-altering terror in the residents, a giant sewer-eal mess. It would have been the ultimate reverse bidet. The city was very nice about cleaning it all up but we're all pretty wary of those sewer maintenance trucks now.

We, fortunately, had never had any problems with sewage backflows when the sewer maintenance folks come out. Until now. When I saw them show up recently, I immediately texted my neighbors across the street to make sure their toilet seats were down. 

But the next morning, we were noticing a really bad smell coming from our guest bathroom, and quickly found the source: The bottom of our shower was filled with what looked (and smelled) like raw sewage. We got the emergency drain cleaner people out but they said the P-trap was totally impacted and we'd need real plumbers to replace it. 

Meanwhile, I was noticing on NextDoor that other people were posting frantic messages about similar occurrences. Three such messages: 

This morning we awoke to a loud noise and the water in all five of our toilets exploded . Fortunately, it was just clean water, but it was all over the floors and parts of the walls. Did this happen to anyone else?

And: This has happened to us twice when the city has come and cleaned a main drain. They happened to start the work in a manhole near our house so it was possible to figure it out.

And: This happened to us some years ago, but our toilets exploded with sewage, resulting in us having to move out of our house and have the hazmat people come in and clean up the mess [No, this wasn't even us!]

What could possibly be causing water or sewage to be spewing from toilets or drains?

Answer: You are almost certainly closest to the manholes where the crews were working. Your tax dollars at work, folks! (If we ever sell, would we be required to disclose these manhole covers, along with the phantom streetlight and the GPS-inaccessible address?)

As annoying (and expensive) as this all was, compared to the months-long renovation of our home back in January 1981, I'm just happy that they're coming out and maintaining these lines.

But could you maybe tone down the velocity on those hoses just a little?

January 7, 1981: Remembering the day in pictures

September 25, 2024:  Uh-oh

 

What I'd Do If I Won The Lottery

[“Let Inga Tell You,” La Jolla Light, published October 14, 2024] ©2024

Everybody has a fantasy about what they’d do if they won the lottery. I’ve always been clear about mine: hire a live-in masseuse. I’d get a minimum of two massages a day of about four hours each. In fact, some days I wouldn’t even get off the table, especially if I could figure out a way to simultaneously get a straw into a glass of chardonnay.

People have very mixed feelings about massage. Some are creeped out by being rubbed with scented oil by total strangers. This is clearly a birth defect and I feel totally sorry for them.

I have other friends who, like me, absolutely love massage. My preferred masseur, of course, is my husband Olof who generously rubs my back if we’re watching TV together, racking up husband points like you wouldn’t believe. He insists he needs them in case of a sudden husband point conflagration which has occurred from time to time, especially when long-awaited plans were cancelled due to business travel. But he’s retired now so it shouldn’t be too hard to maintain a positive balance.

Not surprisingly, my favorite massagee is also Olof. Not a fan of “stranger” massage, he is only too happy to have a can of whipped cream slathered over—er, too much information. Anyway, as a single working parent for twelve years, I was financially ineligible for massage unless someone gifted me one. So I’m trying to make up for lost time.

My only hesitation at all about massage is that I feel a little bad that the masseuse is getting stuck with my increasingly-decrepit porcine proportions. Was I the fantasy she had when she went to massage school?  I think not.

Of course, we aged oinkers are often the folks with money for massages. Which I’m sure doesn’t keep massage people from hoping for some firmer flesh to manipulate. Several years ago, I went into a spa to get a massage gift certificate for my very athletic younger son. He’d been there before. That massage girl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when I mentioned his name. I can assure you that nobody’s face lights up when they hear my name, except possibly to recall that I tip well. Considering my body, maybe it’s not well enough.

My extreme fondness for massage has made my husband wonder aloud if I were secretly adopted from a sensory-deprived Romanian orphanage. As a blue-eyed blond in a family of brown-eyed brunettes, it seemed plausible. Nope, I’m just a massage junkie, plain and simple. 

Sometimes it’s nice to do a massage just focusing on one area. I’ve never actually taken heroin (which probably won’t surprise anyone, especially with the easy availability of chardonnay) but I think head massage must be a similar high. Those endorphins just go crazy. I’d probably have my post-lottery live-in masseuse do at least one head and one foot massage a day too.

Not too long ago, I wandered into an Asian-run massage place whose brochure advertised their treatments as “better for your organ.” I couldn’t argue with such a charming endorsement and signed up for a reflexology foot massage. All our organs are alleged to have nerve endings in the foot so that pressing on certain areas can help diagnose problems elsewhere in the body. Of those 7000 nerve endings, 6,000 of mine seem to be perennially annoyed. The foot masseur pressed on one place that was excruciating painful. I flinched. “Hurt there, kidney no good,” he said. No good?  Maybe they were just having a bad day?  I mean, we’re talking kidneys here.

Noting a really sore spot during a foot massage at another place last year, I asked, “what organ is that?” The masseuse said “sinuses.” Geesh, that’s probably one of the three organs in my whole body that has consistently behaved (along with my kidneys).  So as a diagnostic tool, it may not work that well for me.  I’m thinking that in my case, maybe the pain in my feet might mean “need new shoes” or “lose weight, Lumpy!” Don’t really care. It just feels heavenly.

I guess if you’re going to have an addiction, massage isn’t the worse one you can have. But I really have to start buying lottery tickets.

 

Whine Fest Part II: Readers Weigh In

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published October 7, 2024] 2024

Several weeks ago, I wrote about the many things that annoy me in life, and invited readers to submit theirs for a follow-up column.

Why did I wait 15 years for this topic? I should have been doing it quarterly.

It is not surprising that we all have plenty of things to whine about, particularly our fellow humans. Some topics, not surprisingly, came up repeatedly, particularly parking, dog poop, traffic, and technology. Here s a selection of submissions:

Getting stuck behind a driver who suddenly decides they don't want to be in the lane they're in, but haven't figured out what to do about it.

Veterinary hospitals that don t handle "emergencies."

All the parking taken by people who drove to the gym to work out.

Remote check-in that is still first come first served when you get there.

Using a credit card for takeout food pickup that gives you a screen that starts gratuity level at 15%.

Idiots who can't figure out the traffic circles in Bird Rock!!! Accidents waiting to happen and seriously annoying. Not that difficult to figure out the system.

Companies that talk you into buying their service or product and then later you find out you've subscribed to it every month unless you cancel. You don't find that out until you've been charged for another month or several sessions.

People who don't chip their pets or even put an ID tag on them then post panicked messages on neighborhood social media when the pet gets out.

The drivers who never learned to pull up entirely into the intersection at a traffic light in order to take a left turn and who remain on or behind the white crosswalk for pedestrians, ensuring that when the light turns red they will be able to turn and you, the hapless driver behind them hoping to make the light, will get stuck at it and have to wait for the next light while they drive blithely away. Grrr! Btw, I've been known to honk at them as a gentle reminder to pull forward. A corollary to this are drivers who stop in the middle of the road to check their GPS!

Stores that relentlessly encourage you to use self-serve checkout.

People who leave their dog poop plastic bags in my green recycling bin, in spite of the clear signs, saying NO DOG POOP! with pictures of those baggies I have taped to the lid!

People who basically don't have yards, hiring crews that use only gasoline powered tools to take care of the yard that doesn't exist.

My complaint: those blazing white hot LED headlights that make you want to shield your eyes from oncoming traffic.

People that leave their cart in the middle of the aisle to get a free sample at Costco.

People that leave their trash in the cart after getting the free sample. Really? The trash receptacle is right there people!

Sitting in a turn lane and missing the light when a person in front of you feels their time texting is more important than the rest of the world.

Having a call dropped after waiting online (on hold on a phone call or on a chat) for a long time.

A font so small you can't read the directions on an important medication the volume you need to take at any time, how frequently, with what, and contraindications.

Software companies that tell you they have updated their (very long in legalese) privacy policy but don't tell you what has changed.

An app that won't let you in until you say that you've forgotten your password when they know you have put in the correct password but they just want you to change it to a new one.

When did it become legal to take pets into places that sell any type of food? Restaurant patios with pets kept on floor are legal thanks to Gov Brown tweaking the law for his dog.

Apps that ask you to create a password and THEN tell you the requirements, one by one, after you've met each requirement stated.

Microsoft reboots your computer without permission and then gives you two copies of all the Word files you had open which you then have to open and compare to decide which to keep.

People who leave their trash & recycling bins in plain sight. Makes for a trashy looking neighborhood - pun intended!

Advertisements for medications that have more disclaimers or reasons not to take it than there are ingredients especially the medications that read this long list as fast as possible with a final side effect, death 

Security questions that require you to click on all the pictures with buses, motorcycles, etc. AND THEN require you to repeat the process with three more sheets of other photos. QUIT wasting my time with kindergarten activities!

People who decorate their houses with Porch Propaganda, Lawn Litter, and Balcony Baloney !  I know you said no politics, Inga, but do people really think others care about how they are voting??? One wackadoodle neighbor with all their signs is definitely an indication of how not to vote!!!! La Jolla is so beautiful with the restriction on real estate signs and billboards, all this other stuff is such an eyesore!!!

People who use leaf blowers to blow all the debris down the storm drains!

When you try to close a Microsoft (Excel, I m looking at you) file, and you get the question: Do you want to save your changes? even though you didn't make any changes.

So bring it on, folks. Keep the whining coming!